


The Bed Warmer

by Fable



Series: Merlin [15]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Bed Warming, Desire, Love, Lustiness, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Winter, fantasies, snowballs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-29
Updated: 2014-03-29
Packaged: 2018-01-17 10:39:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1384495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a harsh winter in Camelot, there is no fuel for the fires but I am alight—burning with a desire to rut—I blame my randiness on the confinement of the citadel.</p><p>Then Arthur asks me to warm his bed.</p><p>It turns out he is carrying a secret need, and within time, asks me to describe my innermost fantasies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bed Warmer

 ‘MERLIN, MERLIN!’ The King’s voice resounded down the evening lit corridors of the Citadel.

I burst into the King’s chamber, breathless. The door smacked back on its hinges. ‘Sire, is all well?’ I puffed. Arthur’s chambers were as cold as the crypt.

‘I’m freezing.’ It was early winter in Camelot and Arthur was lying in bed with the covers pulled up to his nose.

‘Arthur, I thought there was something wrong.’ I leant against the bedpost and slowed my breathing.

Arthur peeled back the covers. ‘There is. Get in,’ he said.

‘Um, you’re joking.’ He had to be joking, even bedded down in the forest Arthur would jab me away with a knee if I moved to close.

‘No, get in.’

I did not move through fear of ridicule.

‘Merlin, I need your body heat.’ I watched him scan me from top to toe. ‘Not that you’ll have much to give.’

I looked over my shoulder, half-expecting the Knights to be laughing at the joke.

‘Now Merlin.’ Arthur growled.

I kicked off my boots and shucked off my jacket. To be honest half of me wanted to share Arthur’s bed. To be brutally honest, all of me wanted to share Arthur’s bed. I hesitated, and then slid under the covers. I lay straight as an arrow flicking my eyes from bed canopy to King. Waiting, for what I didn’t know—maybe a _ah-ha fooled_ _you_ spouting from Arthur’s mouth. I wriggled my arse into the soft mattress. Arthur’s bed knocked mine into a cocked hat.

‘Shift over.’ Arthur stretched out a hand. I felt a fist wind in my tunic and I slid sideways across the silk sheets like a bent twig on ice. My lower back made contact with Arthur’s and I felt the King scoot closer until his body was running my full length. He was warm and soft. I froze.

I’d had fantasies of being closer to Arthur, of being more than just friends. I had wild imaginings of Arthur taking me in the forest with legs wide apart and the cool air on our naked bodies. Alternatively, in the armoury shackled to the wall with the smell of polish. I missed the intimacy only a lover can bring and sometimes I felt so lonely it was all consuming. In those times, I thought of Arthur as I took hold of myself in the stillness of my chamber and with noiseless moans concluded them. I crumpled my face and tried to sweep aside the images cantering across my mind.

I love Gaius as a father, I had loved Lancelot as a brother, but Arthur, my love for Arthur is something I struggle to put in a box. Never once did I think that Arthur, the powerful King of Camelot, had those kinds of feelings for me. I am, and always will be, his useless servant.

I listened to the sound of my own awkward breaths for a moment. Arthur had to be jesting with me. I kicked out my arms and legs like a spider on hot ground and threw myself out of bed. I landed in a heap on the floor. ‘Ok,’ I said, ‘jokes over, ha ha.’

‘No joke Merlin, it’s bloody freezing in this room. Coldest winter I can ever remember.’

‘I’ll get you a bed warmer.’ I scrambled up and headed towards the hearth.

‘I had one, it got out of bed.’ Arthur muttered.

I gave a half-hearted laugh and turned my attention to filling the bedpan. With it held level I tiptoed across the room and placed it in Arthur’s bed.

‘That’s all well and good Merlin but the bed goes cold after a while. I need a permanent warmer. Get in.’

‘Arthur?’

‘Now.’

I had to admit it I was randy. Carnal feelings were irritable and snarling in my belly, I didn’t know if it was the confinement of winter or the rutting season. Being in that bed with Arthur all warm and off-guard was too much to handle. ‘I’ll just…’ I said before scooting out of the door.

A harsh winter enveloped Camelot, the worst the lands had seen since the great purge. The wind was bone-biting and a hoary frost hung on every word. A thick cloak of snow suffocated the Citadel and a grey vapour obscured the horizon. The huge public chambers in the chateau were impossible to heat and food supplies were running low. Arthur shut two thirds of the castle for the duration and sent most of the servant’s home. He intended to hunker down and wait it out.

‘Now what?’ I watched, with some fascination, my words become mist and then evaporate.

‘Another couple of weeks and the worst will be over.’ Arthur’s muffled voice came from under the royal bedspread.

I warmed my backside at the hearth. The fire was pitiful as wood was in short supply. ‘So, what do we do in the meantime?’

‘I intend to hibernate.’ Arthur disappeared further under the covers.

‘Right.’ I contemplated the scarlet and gold hillock in the centre of the bed. ‘So, what do you want me to do?’ I said the last few words with caution, aware that he may give me some unsavoury job.

‘Get in.’ the hillock said.

I rolled my neck.

‘I heard that, get in.’

I let out a _huh_ sound and poked at the ice shards floating in Arthur’s washbowl. I was Arthur’s friend, nothing more. Surely, I could lie with him for warmth without my thoughts straying. I heaved a sigh and threw off my boots and jacket discarding them without thought. I crawled under the bedspread and into Arthur’s cocoon. It was darker than I had envisioned under the heavy blankets. Comforting warmth enveloped me.

‘Shift up.’ Arthur’s voice drifted in the semi-dark.

I wriggled snake-like, until my body ran the length of Arthur’s. I felt the King shift his hips into my waist. The fit was snug, like a people-shaped jigsaw. A low rumble from the darkness signalled contentment. Arthur’s scent, a mixture of lavender and polish, stirred feelings in me; I felt that, right there and then, I was safe. An unexpected purr escaped my lips. I closed my eyes and prayed that Arthur was unaware of my suddenly rigid body.

When I opened them, I was on my own in the cocoon. I pushed my face out into the cool air. Early morning seeped into the chamber creating wintery blue shafts of light. Arthur was at the window watching silent lacy snowflakes drift past.

I took a step beside him and blew into my cupped hands. ‘Arthur?’

Arthur turned to me and held my gaze for a moment longer than normal. I heard my breath hitch. He was a handsome man, blue eyes that reflected winter and a presence that no one could ignore. He turned back to the window.

‘I’ve fought armies of undead and monstrous beasts in this citadel. Now look at me, trapped by the white stuff.’ Arthur began striding, barelegged paces to the bed and back.

‘I’ll find you some food.’ I turned on my heels and headed for the door.

‘No. Merlin, why don’t you come back to bed?’

I span on the spot, my heart beating a little quicker, and my mouth dry. I swallowed and admonished myself; the whole bed warmer thing was clouding my mind of late. I _needed_ to get laid. I decided an evening in the tavern with Gwaine would sort me out – one way or another. ‘For warmth… or…’ I said with a voice higher than I would have liked, then, ‘or… did I say or, I meant…’ Shit. I shut one eye and squinted through the other.

Arthur grunted and tilted his head to one side. ‘For warmth Merlin, what _or_ were you thinking of?’

Even though it was freezing in Arthur’s chambers, my face flushed hot. ‘Nothing Sire,’ I said in a gush. ‘I’ll, um, get you some breakfast.’

Arthur huffed and continued his pacing.

After I had managed to rustle up some half-decent breakfast, I needed some air and suggested to Arthur that we walk the parapets. ‘You could survey your lands. Maybe blow a few cobwebs away?’ I know I needed to blow away a few.

He looked at me with an edge of confusion on his face. ‘Ok.’

I didn’t expect the agreement. I needed to get out of the citadel if only for a short while. I’m sure the infernal need to rut was brought on by the claustrophobia of the four walls. I passed Arthur his warmest clothes and the thickest woollen cloak. He didn’t take them, he stood stark naked and unmoving. His honeyed skin covered in goose pimples. He looked good. He looked take-able. ‘You’re supposed to dress me Merlin.’

I shook my head to shake out carnal thoughts and to signal my neglect. I could never fathom why a grown man couldn’t put on his own trousers. ‘Sorry Sire.’ I moved towards him. He raised his arms and lowered his head. I slid a soft tunic onto his body, my fingers brushing his toned torso as I went. He brought his head up and our faces were a hands width apart. For a moment, there was nothing but the sound and sight of our breaths. Our eyes met, his questioning, mine coveting. I wanted to lean in and kiss him; more than anything, I wanted to take that mouth for my own. My heart stopped. My breathing stopped. My muscles tightened.

Arthur took a step back. ‘My trousers, Merlin.’ His words cracked, he coughed and repeated the demand.

I wordlessly finished dressing the King and we headed for the door.

‘Merlin, are you going out like that?’ Arthur took hold of the scruff of my jacket and hoisted me up a little.

‘Um, yes Sire.’ I replied.

The King sighed. ‘Go and get one of my cloaks, you’ll freeze your arse off out there.’

I grinned at him and picked his travelling cloak out of the cupboard. I slung the brown fabric around my shoulders and snuggled into its folds.

The sky was a pewter bowl, heavy with unloaded snowflakes. There was a tang on my tongue like morning dew and there was silence—no birdsong, no bustle and chatter. Arthur and I knee deep in snow, headed for the parapets. My travel cloak dragged along the surface of the snow making a fan-like pattern as I lifted my knees high. I began to run, I needed to escape the tied-down feeling, and I hoped to run the randiness off. My cheeks burned with the cold as I leapt around the courtyard like a brown hawk with a broken wing. I dropped to the ground, panting. Arthur was viewing me with some bewilderment. I had to roll a snowball and I had to throw it at him. It hit him, to my surprise, square in the face. He recoiled. The well-aimed missile had left a red circle on the King’s cheek. Shit. Arthur bent and rolled his own projectile. He threw it true. I turned my head and it hit me on the ear. Good God it stung. ‘Ow.’ I bemoaned.

‘It’s war, Merlin.’ Arthur yelled as he ducked behind the well. I could see him rolling snowballs for Albion.

War did break out in the courtyard of the citadel. One well-aimed snowball followed another. The air filled with whizzing sounds and utterances of annoyance as they hit their target. I came off the worse as expected, with my clothes soaking and ice in every crease of my body, I launched one last attack at the ensconced King. I ran around the well with an armful of the white stuff, my plan to dump it on his head and charge off. He was ready for me, of course. He stood and roared, causing me to stumble backwards as he launched a counter attack. Arthur fell onto me heavy and square, squashing snow into my face. The air rushed out of my lungs in one long groan. We lay red-faced and panting on the cold ground.

‘Truce.’ I gasped.

Arthur did not attempt to move off and he was fair crushing me. ‘I win fair and straight,’ he whispered.

I laughed. ‘Yes, My Lord.’ Arthur was grinning, his face flushed, and his eyes bright and still no attempts to move off my prone body. A silence fell between us and I watched Arthur’s face change. I’ve seen the same look on the faces of the Knights when they haven’t had a visit from their young squires for a while. The look was of want. He ground his hips into mine making small unsure movements. I hummed a sound and my body reacted to him—I know he felt it. I brought my head up to meet his. We breathed each other’s air for an instant then the moment was gone. The look vanished replaced by uncertainty.

Arthur rolled off me and said, in a gruff manner, ‘The stables need cleaning out.’ He didn’t look back as he marched away. Still flat on my back, I watched him go. Despite himself, the King wanted me. I wanted to shout and sing; instead, I took the knowledge and cherished it, locked it away for only me to see. The King wanted me. That was all I needed.

***

That evening as I was stoking the remains of the fire, I asked ‘Do you want me to stay?’ My words were loaded. Could he hear it I wondered.

‘Yes, you are now the Royal bed warmer.’ Arthur smiled at his joke but I saw something else flicker on his face.

‘Yes, amongst other things.’ I jested as I stripped off my jacket and boots and crawled into bed. It was freezing. I emitted a high squeal and wriggled my body in a vigorous side-to-side motion. Arthur, barelegged and like ice, crawled in next to me.

‘Merlin, you smell of horse shit.’

‘Yeh. That may be your fault as I was mucking out just an hour ago.’

 ‘Do you have any nightclothes?’

‘Um, a nightshirt but it is in my room.’

‘Ok, take them off.’

‘What?’

‘Your clothes, take them off. I can’t sleep with that smell.

‘Are you trying to get me naked Arthur?’ I gave an edgy laugh as I pulled off my clothes and chucked them across the chamber. I shivered and shimmied back down under the covers.

‘M-a-y-b-e.’ Arthur pronounced every letter as if he was afraid of them.

Fuck it. ‘The Royal Bed Warmer at your service, My Lord.’ I murmured and slid across to him. I was naked and already wanting. I reached out and under the Kings night-tunic. I brushed my fingers across his chest and down the undulations of his ribs towards the soft swell of his belly. I felt him judder under my touch. I rolled a note of satisfaction in my throat.

‘Merlin...’

I shushed him. My heart beat like the snare drum of a Marcher, loud and relentless. I was all nerves; my fingers tingled with the need to explore Arthur’s body. I was alight. I crushed my body against his and rested my hand on his thigh, waiting. In the candle lit chamber, Arthur turned towards me.

‘How long have you wanted this? Me?’

‘I cannot remember a time when I didn’t fantasise about you. Though, I have to admit the confinement of winter has increased that desire somewhat.’

‘What do you fantasise Merlin?’ Arthur took my resting hand, opened his legs, and slid it around towards the inside of his thigh. It was hot. I was hot. He was hot. I scooched up and whispered in his ear. I told him about been taken up against a tree with my legs so wide apart it was verging on the painful. Also, of been shackled to the walls of the armoury, me naked and vulnerable with Arthur in full battle uniform and leather gloved.

Arthur groaned. ‘Let’s go,’ he said in a hoarse voice.

***

The forest was white-over and moonlit—pools of light next to slivers of shadow. I’m sure it must have been cold but I felt none of it, I was hot and incoherent thoughts tumbled through me like falling pebbles. I found myself stark naked, my legs spread far _far_ apart and my chest slammed against an old oak with the rough bark digging into my face. My body was on a knife-edge. I dug my fingernails into the crumbling bark and hung on.

On the journey to the forest, we were all over each, stopping to catch each other’s mouths in our own. My hunger was driven and ravenous.

Arthur wedged his fist between my shoulder blades and pinned me in place. He took my ear in his mouth and sucked. I could see nothing but bark but I could hear everything, every whimper he made. My God, he was on fire, his desire was as ferocious as mine was. I throbbed and vibrated with need. Arthur wound the strong fingers of his spare hand around me and gripped tightly. He murmured soft words that poured like treacle into every sense.

‘Like this?’ he purred, ‘is this how you imagined it?

I couldn’t speak even if I’d wanted to. I croaked a strangled noise instead.

He started to move his hand in slow deliberate movements. ‘Harder or softer?’ he pushed the tip of his tongue into my ear and demanded. ‘Shout my name when you come.’

I glanced down, the sight made the bones in my legs disappear and I buckled. I clung to the tree and thrust hard into Arthur’s hand, dying now for release.

‘Whoa, steady boy.’ Arthur vibrated into my neck and started to suck all the while maintaining an unhurried rhythm.

I thought I was going to explode. Not fast enough. Not fast enough.

‘Art-hur, have mercy.’ I stammered. ‘Re-lease me.’

He laughed softly and slid the fist from between my shoulder blades to meet the other hand. So, with Arthur’s hot breath on my neck and both his hands working me I came, shouting out his name into the still air as he demanded.

I let my body sag against the oak for a moment before turning. ‘You,’ I said, ‘your turn.’ I dropped to my knees in front of him.’ I heard him gasp. I pulled at the laces on his breeches and they dropped onto the snow-covered forest floor. There was no denying he was glorious. Gwaine had taught me a few things over the years, the finer points of using one’s mouth and throat been one of them. I put these teachings into practice on Arthur. He knotted his fingers into my hair and pulled so hard I struggled to keep my head in one place. I placed my hands on his arse and dug my fingers in.

‘Mer-lin, where the hell did you learn....’ Arthur grunted through the sentence and left it unfinished.

I couldn’t answer him, my teeth and tongue were otherwise occupied. I relished having the King of Camelot as clay in my hands, or mouth—so to speak. A sound came from above my head, a strangled cry.

‘Shout my name when you come.’ I said with my mouth full and more than a hint of cheek.

Arthur tightened his grip on me and came, shouting my name up into the ladened canopy.

I stood and grinned in Arthur’s face then, as if I’d been dunked into an ice plunge pool, I felt the cold. It hit me like a battering ram. I hurried, dressing as fast as I could. I slung Arthur’s travel cloak around me and pulled it tight. The King watched me; I took a step into his space, slipped my hands around his waist, and kissed him. His lips had a chill on them and he trembled under my touch.

‘Let’s go My Lord,’ I breathed into his mouth, ‘I’ll light your fire, and warm your bed.’

He gave me a long look before saying, ‘No, Merlin. I want to go to the armoury... You can help me dress in my battle uniform before I strip you and shackle you to the wall.’

A shudder ran from the ends of my hair and made my toes curl.

‘Then Merlin, you can tell me about your other fantasies to fill the rest of this God-forsaken winter.’

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel is called The Armoury.
> 
> The armoury radiated cold; every piece of metal added their reflective chill. The odour of sweat fused with the heady scent of polishing oil. I pushed the heavy iron-bound door closed. As a place for a secret liaison, maybe I could have chosen better.
> 
> A lone wall torch cast dancing shadows across the racks of swords and shelves of crossbows. To one side, armour plates were set in such a way, helmets above breastplates with gauntlets resting in front, that they looked like waiting knights with front row seats for that afternoon’s performance. We had an audience—that was another fantasy entirely.


End file.
